Spiders
by sammiepop
Summary: Natasha Romanoff is fearless... Or so she wants everyone to think. When she finds a spider in her room, she calls Clint to come and deal with it, who thinks that it's hilarious.


**What? Two stories in one day? What's going on?**

Natasha Romanoff was not the sort of person to _ever_ ask for help. Once, while on a mission, she had had her back to the wall against 30 Bulgarian spies, all armed with various weapons that were pointed directly at her. She had back-up, a strike team that could have stormed the area in about 60 seconds, but Natasha didn't want to ask for help. As far as she was aware, asking for help meant that you were weak, and if there was one thing that Natasha was not, it was weak.

Admittedly, in hindsight it may have been a better idea to have called in the strike team, as in the ensuing fight she had sustained so many injuries that she had been given six months mandatory sick leave.

But that was beside the point. Natasha Romanoff did not ask for help. Ever.

Except, of course, when there was a spider in her room.

Yes, she knew the irony of the situation. The great Black Widow was afraid of spiders. Not just actual spiders either. Fake plastic spiders, pictures and even too-realistic drawings caused her heart rate and breathing to speed up. Nobody knew this, of course. The only way she had managed to keep her reputation of the fearless spy extraordinaire was to ensure that nobody saw past the shell that she wore at all times.

Things had come close though. One time, during a meeting with Hill and Fury she had noticed a spider on the chair next to her. Hill had eventually noticed it, asking Natasha to get rid of it as she was the closest. Natasha had hesitated, mind racing to come up with an excise not to go near it. Ironic that she was the master at lying on a mission, to diplomats and even other spies, hell, she could fool any polygraph test, but when faced with a spider, her brain froze. She eventually got out a simple 'it's not a problem. Go on.' To Fury, who nodded and carried on with the meeting. The next 40 minutes were the worst of her life. She tried to sit casually, acting like she wasn't bothered by that _thing_ next to her, but she sensed that her shell was cracking. It was all she could do not to run out of the room as soon as the meeting was done.

Natasha prided herself on not needing anyone, but stood in her bedroom staring at the spider on her bedroom door, she started to rethink that pride.

She wondered where she had gone wrong. She hadn't left a window open and when she had moved in she had gone round and taped over any open vents, to prevent any from coming in.

"черт возьми" She muttered to herself. She tried not to look directly at it, but she couldn't _not_ look at it, for fear it would move and she would lose it. Why did it have to be on the _door_? It's like it knew that she was afraid, and didn't want her to leave. What the hell was she supposed to do?

"Shit!" She swore and sat on her bed, focusing on slowing her breathing down. Her hands were starting to shake and she could feel a lump forming in her throat that signalled that tears were on their way. She desperately wanted to call someone, but she loathed the idea of anyone seeing her like this.

"I can do this." She whispered to herself, standing up and grabbing a cup and some paper from her bedside table. She slowly approached the door, cup in hand and hovered her hand over the spider. Just as she was bringing the cup down, the spider ran quickly away, moving closer to Natasha. Natasha shrieked and launched herself backwards, landing in a graceless heap on her bed.

"Ow…" She muttered, grabbing her left wrist. As she had fallen she had rammed her wrist into the corner of her bedside table, bending it too far the wrong way. Examining it with a well-trained eye, Natasha concluded that it wasn't broken, but judging from the way it was already swelling, it was definitely sprained. "Enough is enough." She declared to herself, grabbing her phone and dialling before she could talk herself out of it.

"Agent Barton."

"It's Natasha."

"Oh hey Nat. What's up?" Clint's voice becomes instantly friendlier. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine. Can you come over? I have a slight emergency."

"Of course. I'll be over in ten." There was a click and Natasha put down the phone, glancing at the time on her alarm clock. 6:52. Natasha knew that if Clint said he would be over in ten minutes that he would be over in ten minutes. She settled herself on her bed, keeping the spider in her field of vision.

 _*ten minutes later*_

"Nat?" Natasha heard Clint's voice floating up the stairs.

"Let yourself in. I'm upstairs." She called down. In a few seconds she heard footsteps running up the stairs, nearing her bedroom. "Clint stop!" She yelled, just as the footsteps reached her door.

"What? What's going on?" Clint's voice was worried, and Natasha felt shame colour her cheeks as she realised he thought that she was in danger.

"Just- just come in slowly and don't open the door all the way, okay?" She called.

"Okay…" Clint slowly pushed the door open and slipped through. He took a look around and saw Natasha perched on the bed, alone, seemingly unharmed. His brow furrowed in confusion. "What's going on?" He repeated, shutting the door and advancing further into the room.

Natasha cleared her throat. "I…um… I have a situation."

Clint nodded. "Okay, care to elaborate?"

Natasha cleared her throat again. She seemed to be struggling with what to say. Clint frowned. He had never seen Natasha like this before. Her face was red and she looked lost for words. "Is everything okay?" He started moving towards her when she scrambled away, yelling at him to get back. "Nat what the Hell is going on?" Nat shook her head mutely and pointed at his shoulder. Clint turned and saw that he had a spider on his shoulder.

"Hey there, little guy. What are you doing there?" He picked up the spider and held it in his hand. Nat's body was tense, her eyes glued to Clint's hand. Clint slowly put two and two together and a grin slowly spread across his face. He moved his hand closer to Natasha to test his theory.

"Clint get that thing away from me, I'm being serious." The words spilled from her lips without her consciously deciding to say them. She glanced at Clint's face to see that he was grinning from ear to ear. Great. She shouldn't have called him. "Move it away." She growled when he didn't pull his hand back. He refused and Natasha saw the spider start to crawl around Clint's hand. "Clint it's moving! _Get it away!"_ Her voice rose in pitch and Clint decided to take pity on her. He pulled back his hand but didn't stop smiling. In Natasha's opinion he was enjoying this way too much.

"So…" He said conversationally. "Spiders huh?" Natasha shot him a dark look but he ignored it. "You do see the irony don't you?"

"Shut up."

"How rude, Natasha!" Clint put a hand to his heart acting wounded. "After I gallantly came over and saved you from this huge, terrifying spider, and all you can do is tell me to shut up." He shook his head sadly. "Clearly you don't appreciate the things I do for you. Maybe I should just put this back where you found it and be on my way." He turned to the door and got three steps away before he heard Natasha's panicked voice.

"Wait! I'll be nice." Clint stopped, shocked. He hadn't expected that. She must be _genuinely_ terrified of spiders, because in the five years that he had known her, Clint had never seen her back down to anything. "Just get rid of it." There was a pause. "Please." That was another thing he had never heard her say.

"Okay, okay. It's going, see?" Clint walked over to the window and threw the spider outside. "See? It's gone."

"Thank you." Natasha said stiffly. She uncurled herself and got off the bed, hovering uncertainly by the door.

"What's the matter?" Clint asked, knowing that there was something she wasn't saying.

"Can you check if there are any more? I don't know where it came from." She looked endearingly unsure of herself, Clint thought. He supposed he should stop teasing her, it had probably taken a lot for her to call him.

"Sure." He turned and started scanning the walls and pulling back the furniture. Natasha quirked an eyebrow at Clint's lack of response but didn't say anything. She stood in silence for a second while Clint searched, before clearing her throat.

"I'm going to go get an ice pack."

Clint immediately turned around. "What for?" He came over and saw that Natasha was cradling her swollen wrist. "What happened?"

Natasha shook her head. "It's nothing. I fell onto my bedside table. It's just a sprain."

Clint took her hand. "Let me see."

Rolling her eyes, Natasha tried to pull her hand back. "Clint it's fine. It's just a sprain, really."

"Shh." Clint replied, holding on to her arm. Natasha sighed but let him continue. Clint prodded at her wrist a few times. He poked a bit too hard and Natasha yanked her arm back, hissing. "Sorry! Sorry. Won't happen again." Clint gave a half smile but Natasha shook her head.

"You're right, it won't. Because I'm not letting you have my hand back. You clearly have no idea what you're doing."

Clint gave an easy laugh. "Yeah you're probably right."

They stood in silence for a minute, then Clint shuffled his feet and said "So I should probably get going. There's no more spiders in here, so you should be alright now."

Natasha nodded. "Yeah, okay." Clint turned to the door. "Clint." He stopped. "If you ever tell anyone about this I will find out everything you are afraid of and you'll regret it for the rest your life." She said matter of factly. Clint considered it for a moment, then nodded.

"Noted." He said. "But you didn't mention anything about not using this information in other ways. See you next Halloween, Widow." He winked and ducked out of the door, laughing as Natasha yelled threats at his back.


End file.
